


Art.

by cloudburst



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: F/M, This was born of necessity., old work from like 2013, rivetra
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-14
Updated: 2014-12-14
Packaged: 2018-03-01 09:26:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2768081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cloudburst/pseuds/cloudburst
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The captain realized that the woman resting atop him was a work of art, in body, mind, and soul. </p><p>--</p>
            </blockquote>





	Art.

**Author's Note:**

> This is short, self-indulgent, and born of the headcanon that Petra has way too many tattoos to count. I feel like people forget she's a badass titan killer. 
> 
> (I wrote this like a year ago I think¿)

Long, slender fingers pushed silken hair over small shoulders—strawberry blonde mingling with the slight tint of smooth, sun bleached skin. An infinitesimal pressure moved itself along the lines of darkened ink, fading from the few years the intricacies had been intwined with her body. 

The only sound was breath—the only noise they wanted to hear. Her heart was pounding like a horse's hooves, his hands shaking ever so slightly, subtle enough for the girl not to notice. Petra never did. 

He leaned forward, behind where her small body was pressed to the bed, chest against the shrunken mattress—back exposed.

Feather light kisses into her pulse, against the right side of the neck, with elongated touches to the swirling flowers across her shoulder blades—down to the bare skin mid-back, Levi's hands tracing familiar patterns along the surface. She felt the familiar wording, 'O Captain My Captain,' being smoothed along her bare waist by calloused fingers. 

Multiple 'I love you's exchanged between them—against her skin, from her lips and his. 

She turned, with bare chest and wide eyes, to roll onto her back. Flipping Levi with her, she moved onto him, straddling his hips, placing work-roughened hands on his chest. 

He felt his heart blossom where the slight pressure on his diaphragm existed. 

Autumn leaves stared into winter storms—the seasons were so similar, so close, yet so different and separate from one another. Grey eyes met gold, and a chilled organ warmed as the girl's lips were brought down to his, slotting perfectly in an almost unrealistic way. 

He broke the contact; Levi's hands rested on her hips—Petra's legs on either side of him as his eyes moved along her exposed torso. He stared at the patterns that he'd come to love, just as he had done with the girl he spent so much time with. Some were vibrant, like the blonde herself, though darkened ink existed along the fragile tint of her skin. His eyes trailed the word, "Ackerman," across her protruding collarbone—the last name of a cursed man. Levi's last name that she had so wholeheartedly branded herself with. 

This girl was not as delicate as people seemed to think. Beneath the small flashes of smiles and honey eyes lurked a past of survival—she related to the dark man laying beneath her in that way. In various commonalities, they were one. 

The blonde would have it no other way as his lips were brought back to hers, pale fingers tangling into light hair—gently yanking down her head to keep the girl there. Pliant lips positioned themselves in many ways, limbs resting on either side of Levi as the two individuals kissed languidly. 

The captain realized that the woman resting atop him was a work of art, in body, mind, and soul. 

In a world of despair, there was nothing quite as beautiful as waking up to a warm body pressed to yours—feeling love beat beneath your fingertips as you press kisses into a lively pulse. 

Levi appreciated the art permanently etched into her skin—the colors, and the smudged black ink. He admired the curves of her abdomen, the small dip in her sides. The man knew to rub his thumbs along the protruding hipbones, whispering sweet (almost) nothings into the skin of her neck—one place not forged into callous by training. Most of all he knew to cherish her, and the love they had come to share.

He knew that their love story was not one that would change the world—it simply couldn't be. Though, Levi knew that it would forever change his. What they had was not a love with the ability to fix a situation; it did not have the ability to fix them. They had to repair themselves—that was the purpose. What they had was a love that forged happiness. That is what the dark haired captain thought that particular morning as the sun began to leak in through the windows, illuminating the area around Petra. 

The kiss was broken, and Levi had to squint to see anything more than the silhouette of darkness blocking out the sun. A small giggle broke the silence. 

Levi smiled—a small upturn of the lips.

But he smiled.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope I didn't waste your time.


End file.
